Three Cheers for Red Hair and Love

The next day, Frank approached Gerard.

“Hi,” he said.

“Go away! You shouldn’t be seen with someone like me.” Anger mixed with the pain and sadness in his voice. “Then they’ll think you’re like me, Frank.”

“That’s alright. But I’m just here for a moment. Meet me in ‘your corner’ after school today, ok?” And with that he returned to his group of boys and resumed talking about sports and hotties. But he couldn’t free his mind of that glorious red hair.

Frank was about to leave: 40 minutes had passed since school had ended and Gerard still hadn’t showed. Bad thoughts started doing backstroke in his head. He probably doesn’t want to see me anymore. He’s probably got better things to do. He doesn’t love me anyway. Who would? All of a sudden a breathless body flung itself into his arms. In tears, it started to apologize.

“Im so sorry! I had to get away. They, Ray and his awful friends, were trying to catch me. Others were waiting for me. Help me Frank! I’m so sorry!” Tears streamed down his face, smudging the black around his eyes.

“Of course! Come, follow me. I’ll take you somewhere safe.” He led the small boy to an old ford with a dent in the door. It smelled like flat soda and stale burgers. The seats were covered in taupe fabric and candy wrappers. Some exposed springs peeked out of the back seats. But it was Frank’s, so it was beautiful.

Gerard let himself into the passenger seat and fiddled with the radio as Frank attempted to intimidate the car into starting for him. As Queen started belting out of the staticy stereo, the car rumbled to a start to Frank’s surprise. Gerard smiled and trusted himself to Frank to take him to a place of safety; any where where he was.

Notes